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Literature
it all started with sally haley
       eight years ago i was different, i had never been loved, i had never witnessed my grey tabby moan and contract as her kittens breathed their first ounce of oxygen, and i thought that art was simply something you colored in a 20-cent coloring book. my father would've said that i was exclusively extroverted, and even a touch of arrogance would appear on the most unlikely of days.
it intensified in myself to paint. i had seen sally haley's paintings when my best friend's neighbor had been in his teenage art phase, (he had side bangs and blonde streaks that embellished his hair) and i loved the curve of her strokes, i could taste the individual fur of the brush as it paved the canvas, and i wanted to indulge and satiate in the hues.
in school, algebra and geometry nauseated me, and the triangles and squares that i scribbled howled and bellowed at me, taunting me and declaring under their breath, "you're stupid and unintelligent, why are you so afraid of numbers? you're weak, dif
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Literature
withdrawl
the crystal sand
was methamphetamine in my
granduous pores,
and
luring yet nonchalant
daydreams of you
dissipated
like an alacritous kaleidoscope in
my eyelids,
soft yet
severe.
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Literature
primitive aegis
she was laying primitively,
head in her drenched palms,
face blotched crimson and speckled
with tuesday's
tears.
her crisp jeans were
tainted from my
pungent fingerprints,
i shouldn't have bathed
in the tattered midnight light
with her.
( cleanse me. )
i kneeled in front
of her,
(i am lower than her
in this moment-
submissive.)
forgive me
she outstretched her
fingers like an agrestic
duck's webbed foot,
and clutched
my hair.
my fingers scavenged for her cheekbones
and she told me she
loved me.
you are forgiven,
as my child,
as your mother.

blood flickered from
the tips of her ginger
hair,
and she uttered slick and
mischievous syllables,
spilling like saliva from
her painted lips,
obey me.
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Literature
she was my tabby cat
lurking     recollections
 of    tossled  moonbeams
were the patterns that radiated
 from
  her  crescent skin.
she arched  her back,
(like a yawning cat on a milky
   sunday morning)
and felt  the rhythmic
   croon
of  her
  spine as it  
     sighed
        (exhausted).  
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Literature
whiskey and wires
my  ribbed throat
 had  dissolved,
you were its
 epitome.
your  rustling  tongue
was  amber  whiskey,
curving  and
  burning
   its electricity
into  my
 skin.
you  weaved
wires,
red and  blue,
 yellow and  
    green,
and wrapped
 yourself
around
 me.
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Literature
rebirth
her eyes were pale
comet explosions,
motionless
exhibits of
 beauty.
but
 
there were
 craters
in her pupils,
 unfaltering,
and
            tumbling.
she became
detached,
    hysterical.
her skin
 decomposing,
   shattering.
but
when
i told her
i loved
   her,
when i reached
 for her,
her  
 eyelashes
  unfurled
and her
 cheeks held
newly birthed
  fawn.
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Literature
desperation
i    spluttered her name,
      and it
frothed     from my   whimpering lips,
  foaming
white     and
   frosty.
i    couldn't  remind  her
that  the  speckled bruises like
         freckles
under my
   redundant
spine    were      healing and fading,
like the     meek   summer       rain
but    the    trace of   her    curved   fingernails
underneath
my silent lips
would      always
    remain.
  and   the
splattered    blood
on  the  wrinkled    couch
was       merely  
a
    stain.
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Literature
modern lolita
he had these charcoal eyes that left a trail of ash behind them, and i wanted to re-ignite them to watch them transform into light fire and burn into my pale flesh.
his accent was loose and boyish and from new zealand, and he reminded me of the carefree dancing palm trees i used to drive by in my silver toyota.
i was fifteen when he asked me if he could speak to me, and i spoke as a hushed whisper, only if your intentions are well. and he was older and had this long consistent stream of black hair down to his shoulders, and i thought about how sensual hair was, how it was limp and chaotic and got caught in between our lips when we flashed our teeth.
when the sun rose on monday he told me he thought i was beautiful, and i snorted and slapped him with my vivid sailor tongue, telling him that i was young and he was beyond my years.
his eyes were gruff and wounded, why didn't you tell me you were fifteen? i shook my head and choked for air, but i was underwater now and th
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Literature
shut your eyes tight
i.
summer ghosts
are swerving and
shrieking in their
muddy nightgowns,
epileptic
and afraid of your
daughter's
nightlight.
ii.
atmospheric propaganda
is inhaled
into
premature lungs;
newborn tendrils
of white
smoke.
iii.
the foaming ocean
is ferocious,
spitting and sloshing,
its whole body rotating
and bending.
it rises on its heavy
legs,
consuming the
nineteen-year-olds
in their sunset
bikinis,
always devouring
but never
content.
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Literature
i think you love me
the lights are low and
jocular,
wincing and spiralling
above your high school
prom
photo.
one that glistens
meekly,
grinning from its
perch.
you weren't his
first
love, you know.

my knees are tucked under
my chin,
and the bags underneath my
eyes are
magenta,
and the street lights outside
are whistling and
howling,
gasping and aching
for the words
you occasionally
say,
i love you.
your accent is protruding vines
that grasp
my wrists,
twisting and curving,
latching and sinking
their
white thorns into my
skin.
please hold me
i'm under the bed spread i bought
two years ago,
(you used to be so
confident.)

naked and
pretending that my
youth won't
fade.
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Literature
everyone wants to be loved
sixteen years of drenched
petticoats,
i'm searching for
your tear ducts,
your sublime
epitome

side swept weeping willows
are
lulling in their
cradles,
hushed
swallow the white round
tablets,
close your melancholy
and let the
sedation
kiss your parted
lips.
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Literature
suspicious
fast-forward,
your irises
 linger
and they are
neptune,
      plummeting
and faltering.
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Literature
someday you'll be like me
(armies of cascading winter bones
fire missiles of unwanted children.
fumes of chilled joints
and dislodged torsos.)
lovely mercury trenches
are fumbling and obnoxiously
attempting to open
the scattered light weight keys
to your final rectangular prism secrets.
the wind murmurs into the worst
temper of a cloud's ears,
and he cries out of mercy,
raindrops sloshing the faces of
reluctant toddlers.
someday you will be just like me
their parents quote in their lullabies,
pinky fingers stroking the outline
of their childhood cribs.
someday you will be just like me
the words teetering and sinking their fangs
into the slight aurora of their minds.
(your secrets no longer free)
they belong to me.
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Literature
the foreign unknown
his lips were cotton,
white satin
lined with
marijuana,
because he swore he wasn't
addictive.
lay me down while your
fingers are pressed
to my
chest,
and the wrinkles
of my shirt will
cascade
and quiver,
embracing your
lusting
feet.
i crave to indulge
in your
natural perfume,
to
ravish in
the foreign unknown.
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Literature
quiet
my lucid tongue is trembling
and
flaccid,
i can't speak
my flesh is mutilated
and toxic,
and i still have
the mark
of where your finger
first
introduced itself.
bluejays are
awake, their voices
are murmering,
still sleepy.
and their feathers
have a distant
acoustic
rhythm.
are you singing
our
song?

my fingers are numb,
and the street
lights
are glittering,
tense with the brisk
chill.
will you
speak to
me?
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gravity drips from crescent couch-cavities
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burst on the water's edge,
earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes;
raking water wrinkles like a wayward drunk
stuck on sunken bootleggin' dreams.
it's been a long, long time
since I've drowned your hemisphere
for fishing like a moon-raker,
swishing my bait-lines with tobacco
squished in your shallow gums
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kenzy
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
My heart is composed of unfinished novels and unresolved empathy.
Interests
whatever man at least i got my tunes

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:iconspotted-fawn:
spotted-fawn Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
also thanks for the watch, means a lot :heart:
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:iconunseen-reality:
Unseen-reality Featured By Owner Aug 20, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
no worries, love your work. thanks for the watch back!
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:iconspotted-fawn:
spotted-fawn Featured By Owner Aug 21, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
i'm so glad! thank you for that c:
no problem!
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:iconspotted-fawn:
spotted-fawn Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you for the fav! :D
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:iconserentic:
Serentic Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2013  Student General Artist
Thank you so much for the watch and the favorite! <3
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:iconunseen-reality:
Unseen-reality Featured By Owner Aug 20, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
you're welcome :)
Reply
:iconwalkingindreamlight:
WalkinginDreamlight Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
I'm pleased you have enjoyed my work:)
Reply
:iconadeline-renee:
adeline-renee Featured By Owner Aug 18, 2013  Student Writer
thanks so so much for the watch and the fave!!!
:heart:
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:iconunseen-reality:
Unseen-reality Featured By Owner Aug 18, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
you definitely deserved it!
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:iconkingtheseus:
KingTheseus Featured By Owner Aug 18, 2013  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you for the watch!  I had to add you as well, your writing is quite lovely :worship:
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